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You let fly your Arrow but it is poorly aimed. It arcs harmlessly into the night sky as the archer lands on the roof of the building opposite. Determined not to let him get away, you dash along the street, your eyes fixed on the shadowy figure as he makes his escape across the rooftops of the north quarter. You are twenty yards ahead of him when the street makes a turn and you find yourself faced by a solid brick wall; you have come to a dead end. You are about to retrace your steps when suddenly you notice a rusty iron staircase away to your right. It is a crude fire-escape ladder and it leads all the way to the roof of a linen warehouse. Quickly you climb the ladder, your weapon drawn in readiness to intercept the assassin the moment he appears.
